


i'n cadw ni yn onest

by svladcjelli



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i dont have self control im sorry, leslies welsh, this is projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svladcjelli/pseuds/svladcjelli
Summary: Three times Ellis felt alone and one time he didn't.
Relationships: Joseph Blake/Lieutenant Leslie
Comments: 11
Kudos: 29





	i'n cadw ni yn onest

**Author's Note:**

> why did i do this. um. anyway the title is from celwydd golau ydi cariad by cowbois rhos botwnnog. they're my favourite band right now and extremely underrated, go give em a listen!! enjoy :)

_-1_

Ellis Leslie grew up in the valleys of Swansea. It was a small town, small enough to be considered a village by textbook definition, but most importantly - home. He was the only child to a mother who was told she would never be able to conceive children and a father who dedicated his life to his work in the coal mines. "A miracle child," they'd call him. 

Until his father died.

Ellis was too young to recall when it happened, but he was told it was a respiratory illness from the coal. It was common in miners, the townspeople would say, but not miners that young. It was devastating to everyone, the impact of loss on such a tight-knit community. But tight-knit meant traditional and that meant they would do what they could to bury his father in a traditional manner. 

His mother put on a brave facade for his sake, to preserve some of his innocence in such a rotten world. It was eerily normal for the day before the burial apart from funeral preparation and the like, as well as the other schoolchildren and teachers saying they were 'sorry for his loss.' He couldn't understand why they were sorry, though, it wasn't anyone's fault.

It wasn't until the night of his father's Gwylnos that he understood the severity of it all.

Ellis looked at the cold body of his father where once lively eyes could tell stories of the mines for hours upon hours. There were other members of his family gathered around the body, all mourning in their own way. There was loud chatter over the fog of melancholy that Ellis could hear but he felt excluded all the same.

He looked at the dead body of his father lying upon the table. 

Ellis felt alone. 

_-2_

He was going to war. The Great War, it was called. He had enlisted on his own to get away from his godforsaken small-town life, to get away from Wales. His country wasn't getting anywhere and neither was his life. The other boys from his village had enlisted alongside him, all preparing to fight and sacrifice themselves for their nation.

But Ellis wasn't like that. He wanted an escape. 

The day had come for the village boys to be deployed to greater cities to fight for something they barely understood. His village was filled with big families, more than four children to each spouse. He knew it was childish and irrational, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. 

He kissed his mother goodbye and promised to write to her while he was away, praying to God he would be well enough to do so. Ellis looked at the other boys with their rucksacks, all banded together in cliques. 

It wasn't the first time Ellis felt alone - and it wouldn't be the last. 

_-3_

The war was worse than he could have imagined. The letters he wrote home were becoming duller and duller and at some point, he ceased to care. Nothing mattered when you fought for your life everyday just to barely scrape by, all while watching your comrades and peers drop dead like insects. 

He was beginning to lose track of the the number of kids he watched descend into muddy craters, never to be seen again. 

It's not like Ellis didn't care about the lives he lost, the blood smeared on his hands - no, he stopped caring about home, his future and most importantly - himself. He was just another pawn in a useless game of fighting and while he missed his mother a great deal, he wasn't sure he'd ever make it back to her.

Ellis wasn't like the other enlisted men who had a wife and children to return home to - he was alone. He always would be.

His health was declining rapidly but he felt like a cockroach in the eyes of God. He was a lone survivor on many accounts and seemingly never died no matter how many craters he came across, how many illnesses he combated. That night, he was placed in charge of the Yorks. Major Stevenson was killed and as oftentimes before, Ellis was the only survivor. 

It was in these instances he was no longer Ellis, but Lieutenant Leslie. 

He pulled a cigarette from his tobacco tin, catching a glimpse of a yellowed photograph. In the worn piece of paper was a photo of him and his mother years before the war began. Ellis wanted nothing more than to have those times back. 

To himself he whispered, _'rwy'n dy garu di, Mum.'_

He tucked the tobacco tin back into one of his various upper-pockets, lighting his cigarette with a drawn-out sigh. The constant clamor of the trenches wasn't enough to keep his company - it never would be. 

Ellis was alone. 

_+1_

After the war, Ellis couldn't return home. He had sent letters informing his mother of his whereabouts mixed in with lies of his well being. _'I'm fine, Mam,'_ all his letters would say even after feeling the phantom aches and pains of being cramped in a dugout. He had moved to the outskirts of east London, somewhere he felt alienated in order to start a new life. 

Starting a new life was a lot harder when the past seemed to follow you everywhere. 

He couldn't face his mother after the horrors he had scene, he wouldn't let her see the way he hid when someone knocked on the door a bit too loud. He couldn't. 

There was only one person who understood that side of him, the fear that continued to occupy his mind every waking hour. 

His name was Joseph Blake. Never Lieutenant Blake, just Joe. 

Ellis felt comfortable around him because they understood each other in a unique way only they could. Joe had moved into his flat under 'concern,' Joe explaining that he wanted to make sure Ellis was taking care of himself properly. At the time, Ellis wanted to scoff - but in hindsight, he knew he wasn't. He never ate more than a meal a day and slept at odd hours along with an irrational fear of leaving his flat. 

When Joe came along, he was a mess. But he made Ellis feel safe and over time, he was able to function again. Days escalated into weeks and friends became more than friends. He knew it was wrong, they both did - but who was there to see? Ellis made Joe feel happy and Joe made Ellis safe. 

If they stuck together, maybe things would be alright. 

"What's your favourite flower, Ellis?" Joe asked one night after one of Ellis' bad days. Fortunately, there had been more good than bad when Joe was around. 

"Daffodils." Ellis' voice was a bit muffled from his spot in Joe's arms. 

"Why?" 

"It's our national flower - Wales, I mean." He grumbled.

"'Course."

A week later, Joe came home with a pot of bright yellow daffodils. 

With Joe, Ellis didn't feel so alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!!!!! first joeslie fic in a while. im sorry if my welsh sounds a bit weird, i don't speak/write it very often!!!! thank you, as always <3


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